Here Comes the Sun
by Tippy.LaRoux
Summary: What to look for when you havent seen anything in years


QLFC

Chaser 3

Falmouth Falcons

(dialogue) "I love it when someone insults me. It means I don't have to be nice anymore." - Kim

(object) mismatched socks - Kim

(setting) Romanian dragon sanctuary - Kim

Chaser 3: Department of Mysteries: Write about someone trying to solve something, figure something out, or understand something

Thank you, Elizabeth. You are a queen.

.o0o.

"_You, Draco Malfoy, are hereby released to the Ministry of Magic, Creatures Division to serve out the remaining two years of your sentence. Consider yourself lucky, young man. Don't squander this opportunity to do more with your life_."

Everything after the sound of the gavel coming down was a blur. Draco was ushered out of the Wizengamot and taken to a spot where Aurors can Side-Along Apparate prisoners to and from Azkaban. After eight years, he was going to be able to sleep without the cacophony of snoring and crying that could usually be heard when the night slowly crept into the prison. After eight years, he was going to see something other than the thirty-six bars and the solid grey granite wall that made up his cell.

He would see the light of day again if it killed him.

Gathering the meager belongings he was allowed in prison, he sat on his bed and looked at the room around him. No matter what happened, he was going to make sure to see the sun. The fog that engulfed the island did not lift when the Dementors left. In January the cold mist would sneak under every layer of robes and cloaks and would wrap itself around your body until a chill filled your veins and a darkness washed over your soul. It was like the Dementors never left.

The same Auror that took him to the Wizengamot walked into his cell, right through the bars. "Have fun in the mountains, boy." A wicked smile cracked over his scarred face. "Watch out for dragons." With no other warning, he thrust a cracked teacup into Draco's hands.

Having been years since he traveled any way but walking, he was surprised when an uneasy feeling swept through his body. The world spun around him and the dull grey was transformed into an office with huge windows filling up an entire wall. His eyes burned looking at the bright day outside, but he couldn't look away. Moisture was gathering in the corner of his eyes, and he barely registered a soft spoken spell from just behind him; then the room darkened and came into focus.

.o0o.

The Portkey must have taken him straight to the Director's office. Draco met four disapproving eyes, and two cornflower blue ones. He stood there, holding the small rucksack of clothes and belongings he was allowed to take, and handed the chipped teacup to the tall man holding out his hand. Draco did his best to hold his tongue as well. It worked. For a while.

"What can he do?" the tall dark one asked, not even bothering to do more than offer Draco a snort in his direction. "He can't even use a wand for Merlin's sake! They'd have been better off sending us a Flobberworm for all the help he will be!"

"I love it when someone insults me. It means I don't have to be nice anymore." The words fell from his lips and he should have immediately regretted them. The magister had told him not to squander the opportunity. But he was still Draco Malfy. He was a wizard, wand or not.

"Oy, you watch your tone here, boy. I have no qualms sending you back to Azkaban with 'Return to Sender' stamped across your forehead!" Draco muttered a reluctant apology and the three dragon tamers went on arguing about what to do with him. He wasn't paying much attention to the conversation; instead he was looking through the sheer drapery, trying to make out the shapes of the landscape in front of him.

"Ah, I see we have an agreement then?" The reluctance in the man's voice was palpable.

"He can work in the kitchens." The soft gravelly voice of Blue Eyes spoke to the others, but he was looking straight at Draco. "We all take a shift there, and Muggles have been cooking their whole lives without magic so I'm sure he can figure it out."

Draco almost spoke up; he had never done anything more than knick a cookie from the kitchen, and now they were expecting him to cook for everyone? What was he relegated to without his wand, a house elf? Even they have powers. Luckily, Blue Eyes cut him off before he even started.

"My rotation starts this month, I can show him the ropes and figure out a schedule with him." The two other people in the room looked crestfallen. They didn't have anything to refute that. It seemed the case of what to do with the war criminal was solved; put him to work in the kitchens.

The following argument, where to keep the war criminal when not in the kitchens, took longer to solve. While the three dragon tamers were debating the merits of the criminal going with anyone but them, Draco watched as the shadows in the room slowly lengthened.

"It doesn't matter who I go with," he said with a quiet urgency. "It will be better than my last roommates, I promise." He turned away from them and picked up the bag that he had dropped on the ground when he realized they weren't going anywhere soon. His shoulders slumped. He just wanted to hear his next sentence and move forward.

Charlie Weasley, AKA Blue Eyes, seemed to have a penchant for trying to save broken things. The decision makers in the room decided that a wizard without a wand was a broken thing, so Draco was to be placed with Charlie. Decision made, Charlie led the way to his small cabin tucked into the woods near the foot of the mountain.

Grey granite stretched out as far as his eyes could see. The sun had already gone down.

.o0o.

His first day in the kitchen was brutal. I was raining all day, so no chance of the sun. Plus, the dishes were awful. Draco was happy to be leaving the mess hall.

"What are you going to do now?" Draco asked Charlie, sure he wouldn't want to spend anymore time with the criminal.

"Oh, I like to go for a run at the end of the day. Burn off all that energy I haven't used and just be outside."

"It's raining," Draco said to him as they jogged to Charlie's cabin.

"Oh, I know you aren't made of sugar, Malfoy!" Charlie exclaimed on the last few steps. When they stopped under the small porch in front of the carved wood door the smile on Charlie's face was almost contagious. "When was the last time you felt rain on your face?

"Besides," he said as he pushed into the small cabin, "you could use a good rinse."

The run was just what he needed. Draco could tell Charlie was holding back quite a lot to stay in step with him. They ran up the grey granite mountain, the rain lashing at their faces. The sun was nowhere to be seen that day; regardless, Draco felt better than he had in awhile.

.o0o.

"_You, Draco Malfoy, are hereby sentenced to no less than ten years in Azkaban Prison for the crimes committed against Muggle and wizards alike. May Merlin have mercy on your soul."_

Shooting straight up in bed, Draco nearly smashed his head on the bunk above him. The sound of the gavel struck by the magister echoed in his head. His heart pounding, and the cold sweat that had broken out all over his pale skin let him know his body was preparing for another panic attack. Pulling on the nearest socks, which by the feel definitely did not match, and shoes, he quickly wrapped himself in his thickest sweater and headed towards the door.

The air was thin at the Dragon Reserve, and even in the summer months it often dipped to near freezing temperatures in the Carpathian Mountain Range. In late January it was much colder. Draco grabbed a hat and scarf that were hanging on a hook by the door on the way out.

The cold winter air pushed at the hair hanging halfway down his back and he headed for the treeline behind Charlie's cabin. He needed to move, and fast. He had to stop using Calming Drafts when he was sentenced to Azkaban; the only way he'd found to head off a full-blown panic attack was to exert as much energy as he could, as soon as possible. Like releasing the steam from a pressure cooker, he could feel the momentum of his panic slowing ebbing with every step.

When he felt protected by the cover of the trees he broke into a full-blown run. This was something he couldn't do in Azkaban. The cells were tiny, and although they had a bit more freedom after the Dementors left, there still wasn't room to much more than sprints in the small courtyard. Small trees were pushed aside, and low hanging branches scratched across his face and hands. It was wonderful, just feeling again.

He ran down what must have been a game trail, and every time he came to a split in the road, he would continue up. Up was harder than down, and the harder he pushed himself, the further he would be from his fears. Maybe he could outrun them if he climbed high enough,

Up was the way to see the sun.

Tripping along the way up the grey mountain and through the thick fog that surrounded him he ran as fast as he could. He stopped short when the trees abruptly stopped. He walked to the edge of the forest and looked below him and it was he'd made it to the edge of the world.

He stopped and sat there for a while. The forest around him slowly stopped resonating the nocturnal sounds that should scare anyone, let alone a wandless wizard, back to their warm beds. Sitting there, at the edge of the world, he felt the earth wake up.

A cool gust of air pushed up the face of the mountain and lifted the soft hair around his face that had finally dried from his race through the woods. As he sat there on top of a mountain he felt the fog wash over him as sliver of sun broke through. After having spent eight years in the dreary prison, he shouldn't have been able to feel beauty in the fog. It should remind him of those days, but it didn't.

Draco sat there, not caring about how cold he was or his mismatched socks, and watched as the sun came up.

That was where Charlie found him with his blond hair tangled with tree branches. Tears stained Draco's cheeks that were pink from the cold. "How? Why did you come looking for me? I figured you would all say good riddance and move on with your lives."

"I couldn't, Blondie. You took my favorite sock."


End file.
